


“Slushies aren’t just for kids, fuck society!”

by sugawarasenpai



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 13:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10922853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugawarasenpai/pseuds/sugawarasenpai
Summary: “Slushies aren’t just for kids, fuck society!” Hanamaki says, straight-faced and indignant, but Matsukawa can see the way the corner of his mouth twitches, trying to hold off smirk that will give him away.Another drabble written for a tumblr prompt meme.





	“Slushies aren’t just for kids, fuck society!”

“Slushies aren’t just for kids, fuck society!” Hanamaki says, straight-faced and indignant, but Matsukawa can see the way the corner of his mouth twitches, trying to hold off smirk that will give him away.

 

The old woman -- who was already peering at him distastefully before -- scoffs and shakes her head, storming away with full offense. 

 

Hanamaki snickers and goes back to noisily slurping from his straw, wriggling his back further against the wall behind him, a scuffed black boot digging into the brick. Right now he’s a sight that Matsukawa can’t tear himself away from, a strange creature illuminated by the deep orange sunset that’s sinking slowly in the distance. The wide brim of his hat casts his face in shadow, giant round sunglasses, beetle-like, hide his eyes. 

 

He’s right there yet somehow feels so distant, shadowed and glowing, unreal, like he’ll vanish if Matsukawa dares to look away. And this is it, this is the moment, the one that Matsukawa finally lets himself find unbearable, the one where he realizes just how  _ badly _ he’s going to miss Makki. 

 

Tears threaten to prickle at the corners of his eyes, and his chest is a sore and heavy thing, like fingers pressing hard into deep bruises. He takes a slow, deep breath -- he’s spent three years learning how to breathe through the pain and he’s not going to let it overcome him now. 

 

Fuck that entirely.

 

“What?” Hanamaki says, and slurps some more, quirking his eyebrows up. “You’re staring.”

 

“You’re ridiculous,” Matsukawa says, because it’s true. “I don’t think that’s why she was looking a you like that.”

 

“Mmn, yeah, but what’s the fun otherwise?” Hanamaki smirks, his lips stained red. 

 

Hanamaki will be gone in less than 24 hours. Off to Tokyo for who knows how long, and it’s as if Matsukawa is only just beginning to piece together the gravity of that. The reality of it crashes over him.  _ He’s leaving. _

 

So Matsukawa, his mind a panicked buzz, crowds himself up against Hanamaki, trapping him there between himself and the wall. He slides his palms roughly against the brick, the grit digging sharply into his skin, lets his arms cage Hanamaki from both sides.  _ He can’t disappear like this _ , and Matsukawa wonders if maybe he’s said that out loud. Maybe not. His pulse thrums in his ears. 

 

“Mattsun?” Hanamaki asks, and tilts his head, bringing thin fingers up to slide the glasses down, meeting his eyes. “What’s this abou--”

 

Their mouths are crushed together then, in an instant, a bad decision, and Matsukawa is surprised to find how little he minds the taste of fake-cherry if it’s on Hanamaki’s lips. The kiss, he thinks when he pulls away, will probably be regrettable. Matsukawa wishes he wouldn’t do things without thinking, and normally he’s good at refraining, but Hanamaki has always thrown him a little bit off balance. 

 

“Oh,” is all Hanamaki has to say when Matsukawa lets some distance back between them. Still,  he doesn’t drop his arms, doesn’t move the knee that’s got Hanamaki’s leg pinned to the wall. 

 

“Yeah,” Matsukawa nods.

 

“Bad timing, don’t you think?” Hanamaki is grinning, and then before Matsukawa knows what’s happening he feels the cold, chapped lips back on his own, insistent, decided. 

 

Matsukawa chuckles, because his chest aches. He will  _ definitely  _ live to regret this forever until the end of time.

 

“Like usual,” he manages to say, when they pull apart again.

 

“You could ask me out or something first, buy me a drink,” Hanamaki says with a shrug. “Act like a gentleman.” 

 

“Eh,” Matsukawa shrugs. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I already bought you a drink,” he grins, and gestures down to the giant styrofoam cup that’s since been dropped to the sidewalk in a puddle of icy red. 

 

“Ah, but you’ve made me go and spill it,” Hanamaki pouts, “you owe me another one.”

 

“Okay,” Matsukawa nods, and finally pushes himself away from the wall, a little reluctant, letting Hanamaki go. “Sounds fair.” 

 

“Alright, it’s a date then.” Hanamaki, smirking, grabs at his hand, leading him down the road, away from the stares that have gathered around them outside the convenience store.

 

This thing they keep doing, this pretending that things aren’t suddenly changing,  _ haven’t  _ been changing, is getting tiresome. Still, if nothing else, it’s easy. Safe, somehow. Matsukawa laces his warm fingers together with Hanamaki’s chilly ones, and wonders what either of them are expecting to get out of this. 

 

They’ve only got a handful of hours left together, maybe more if they forgo sleep, but Matsukawa’s probably a little too hopeful. And maybe it’s  _ because  _ of these last handful of hours they have together, that it feels safe -- dreamlike and unreal. _ But hey _ , Matsukawa thinks,  _ fuck it _ . 


End file.
